


Forever Lost

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Do not read if you have not watched up through Yakimono, M/M, Not a happy ending for the couple, Scene Rewrite, angst-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during and after the final scene of episode 207, "Yakimono".</p><p>Will Graham has returned to Hannibal Lecter, and Hannibal is so sure this means that somewhere, Will still harbors affection for him, ones that might rival those that fill the doctor himself. What he is too blind to see is that Will is devoid of any tenderness for him, and that he would gladly use the doctor's affections for his own gain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Lost

The wine smelled sweet, would taste just so on his tongue. Hannibal knew, yet for a moment he tried to forget the memorized taste. Fine, yes, but something far too familiar. Before he could take a sip a gentle _rap_ at his door stopped him. He looked up, then set his glass down, curious who it could be, as he was sure he had invited no one. Not now, not during this hour.

This was Will’s hour, had been, would be presently, and would continue to be so, no matter the twists they took. It was something silently, brokenly sacred.

He stood up and made his way to the door, pulling it open, expecting someone nameless and faceless, no one of interest. What he found was Will’s back, the solid shape of his body, before the man turned at the sound of the door opening.

“Hello Will.” Hannibal’s voice sounded steady, but something in him seized up. The man before him looked entirely different from the man who had stepped from the shadows in his kitchen, who pointed a gun to his head and stared with steel eyes, void of all blue that had once shone there. This man looked almost _refined_ , with his jacket draped over his arm, his hand casually in his pocket. Will’s curls had been cut away, one tenderly wisping over his forehead, something that could easily be wrapped around a single finger.

“May I come in?” His voice was steady, almost devoid of anything except basic sound. Hannibal stared for a moment, letting it echo inside his head, although the reverberations lacked the pleasant melody Will’s voice had once left behind.

“Do you intend to point a gun at me?”

Will let his tongue dart out the part of his lips quickly, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he let his eyes run over Hannibal- playful, enticing, something Hannibal did not lack to notice. He walked casually towards him, giving him the faintest shake of his head. “Not tonight,” he offered, as if Hannibal had instead propositioned him for something intimate, and Will was simply putting it off for a night or two.

The sheer flirtatious nature of it left Hannibal speechless. He stepped aside so Will could slip inside his office, brushing past him, feeling his heat and wanting to reach out, wrap an arm around him and tug him back to press into his chest. Wanted to feel the way Will would squirm and then calm, wanted to smell him and hear his breaths in the still air.

“Are you expecting someone?” Will asked, eyeing the empty chairs.

“Only you.” Hannibal did his best to mask the affection in the words, the desire to have his night with Will resumed. The time had become something sacred, and could belong to no one else.

“You kept my standing appointment open?”

Hannibal looked at his watch briefly. “And you’re right on time.”

Will inhaled, felt Hannibal’s eyes on him, knew they were unable to pull away, and chose his next words carefully. “I have to deal with you,” he sighed, “and my...feelings about you.” Behind him, Hannibal’s chest constricted, his rib cage two sizes too small for his lungs and heart- organs which suddenly burned, no longer knew how to properly function. “I think it’s best if I do that directly.”

“First you have to grieve for what is lost.” Hannibal made his way over, unsure how his tongue still knew how to form words- unsure how his mind had even chosen the words to be formed. Inside his mind countless possibilities began to unfold- all of which had Will falling against him finally, _finally_ , and accepting him for the glorious creature he was beneath his person suit. All of them had Will loving him as the doctor so desperately wanted. “And what has changed.”

“I’ve changed. You changed me.” The slight gasp to the words caught Hannibal, and he wanted to love what Will had become. Yes he wanted the Will he had seen before- the broken one, the one that would cling to him so needy. He wanted both simultaneously.

“The friendship that we had is over.” The words stung his mouth, but Hannibal let them tumble out. He needed to see Will’s reaction. He needed to properly gauge what was truly going on- or he risked losing himself, letting himself be unraveled which would simply not do. Not for him. “The Chesapeake Ripper is over.”

Testing the waters. Will inhaled. “It had to be Miriam, didn’t it?” They waters were warm- not hot, but they would burn. Still, Hannibal slipped under. “She was...compelled to take his life so she could take her own back.”

Hannibal let the silence settle, lapse for a moment, watching Will, taking in the ticks of his lips, the slides of his eyes, the colors in the dim lighting of his skin and hair and eyes. “How will you take your life back?”

Will turned his head, looked at him through dark lashes, then turned to fully face Hannibal, head steady and level. His voice was heavy, clear, slipping into something lacking the passionate undertones he had once had. “I’d like to resume my therapy.”

Hannibal swallowed as Will walked over to the chair that had once been his, settling in. His legs didn’t seem to remember how to move, and he worked his mind as quickly as he could through the possible reasons Will had for this- but all his brain did was _clank_ against his skull like stale metal, leaving him feeling empty, light headed, and wanting.

He settled into his own chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, attempting to look calm, stoic, the mask he had once had. Beneath it all, there was a tremor he couldn’t fight. He found and held Will’s eyes, like he had within his kitchen, and Will did not flinch away. Instead he stared so openly it made Hannibal’s stomach cold and hot all at once- excited and stricken with a brief moment of terror, something he felt around no other.

Perhaps that was the draw to Will Graham. Perhaps it was the way he made him feel so ungodly _human_. The love he had boiling inside him for the man had not diminished- not after the attempt on his life, not after Will had stared him down with a gun and threatened his end all over again. If anything, it cried out, hungry now, for Will to return it, for him to _see_ and accept.

Hannibal could love him as no other person ever could.

He just needed Will to see that.

“Where shall we begin?” Hannibal asked, because he couldn’t bring himself to find a starting point for this man, or an end. Only a continuous stream. Will inhaled, sighing audibly, and Hannibal wished suddenly the chairs were closer together, so he could feel the heat of his breath. So he could reach out and touch him, stroke fingers along his cheek and up into his hair, grip him and pull him close.

The urge to kiss Will Graham was overpowering, in a way it had not been for quite some time. But seeing him now, watching Hannibal as the silence lapsed despite Hannibal’s hanging question, it made him want, and _want_ with such painfully tight fingers that he was choking.

“Should we begin at the end?” Will asked, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair. “I feel like the beginning would be too...mundane.”

“Do you already know how this ends, Will?” Will said nothing, sucked on his tongue for a moment.

“You asked me if I wanted to know how it ends,” he countered, pushing himself up from the seat and crossing the small space between them. “And I do.” He leaned down, one hand resting on the arm of Hannibal’s chair, staring him in his eyes in a way that made Hannibal’s stomach flip and tighten. “Let’s skip the middle, _doctor_ , and move right into the finale.”

He leaned over Hannibal, head tilted slightly, reaching out with his other hand and gripping Hannibal’s chin, tilting his face up slightly. When Will next spoke, Hannibal could feel his breath, and his pulse rose despite himself. “Tell me if you disagree with this ending, doctor.”

Will pressed his mouth to Hannibal’s, and the older man swore the world tilted then. His hands, still folded in his lap, clenched together, and his breath left him as Will’s mouth moved slowly, calmly over his own. Once, he was sure this would have been the reaction he would have brought out in Will- but the man had seemed so lost to Hannibal that suddenly having him here, having him willing- it was too much. Hannibal’s chest ached with it all.

Will clutched at the chair’s arm softly, eyelids feeling heavy. Hannibal’s mouth moved against his won with a silkier rhythm than he anticipated- but he had known that physically, he would enjoy this. Once he would have enjoyed it in every facet imaginable.

Now he felt too empty.

Hannibal’s hands left his lap, one reaching up to thread into Will’s now short hair, the other finding his arm and gripping it, clutching onto him as if to make sure he was real. Will knew that feeling, knew it well, deep inside his gut. Once he had wanted to clutch to Hannibal in that same way- had pressed his fevered forehead into his hand and begged silently for solace from the nightmares. Even that tenderness had been a lie.

But Will knew Hannibal loved him, down beneath the mess this life had become. And that hurt, because Will had wanted it, needed it, craved it.

Now it was just a bone for him to gnaw on, to whittle away at with needle teeth.

“Tell me to stop,” Will breathed, releasing Hannibal’s chin and forcing his thighs flat to the chair so Will could climb on, straddle him, pulling his arm free then and wrapping it around Hannibal’s shoulder. “Tell me to stop, or I won’t.”

Hannibal hook both arms around Will’s waist, pulling him close, pressing his mouth to the man’s throat. He felt his pulse beneath his skin and mouthed at it, heard Will exhale. He tilted his head back, let Hannibal explore his throat, thought how intimate it could be to have the man pressing up to his pulse, touching the very proof that Will was living. And while his cock stirred at the attention, his ribs felt achingly empty over it all. Still, when Hannibal nibbled up his jawline, Will tilted down to find his mouth, to run his tongue along his lower lip, suck it into his mouth, feel Hannibal’s hips surge up suddenly against his own, leaving Will gasping.

Will let one hand run back over his shoulder to his chest, down over his sweater, fingers careful and precise in their pressure. Hannibal’s breath was faster than Will would have expected- he was reacting in ways that humans do, that men do. Not in ways that Gods and demons and the Devil himself should. Perhaps the person suit was beginning to stick.

Will reached up to his own shirt, popping the buttons with ease until it was open, and one of Hannibal’s hands was roaming along his chest, stopping to elt his thumb draw circles over one pale nipple. Will gasped into Hannibal’s mouth, pushed into the touch, felt heat but not the affection he once had within him.

“You’re overdressed,” Will breathed against Hannibal’s mouth, and was suddenly pushed back, Hannibal nearly tearing his sweater off and tossing it aside. Excitement was something Will had never seen so fervently in those burgundy eyes- and as Hannibal undid his tie and dropped it on the table next to his chair, Will went for the buttons of his shirt, working them open, keeping his eyes drawn down to the movements of his hands, until he was pulling the garment aside, running his hands up Hannibal’s stomach and chest, fingers sinking into the fust of grey hair that was oddly comforting.

Will wished he could turn back the clock, could have done this sooner, before the sickness had gotten so great- before Hannibal had become clear. Wished he could sink into his old self and see Hannibal as his _friend_ , could love him.

Hannibal tilted his head back, let Will lick and kiss at the skin of his neck, the man’s hands cool against his warm skin. With every shift of Will’s body on his lap he felt his own reacting, reaching for Will, wanting to pull him down inside him, swallow him whole and keep him locked inside his rib cage. Let him see the way Hannibal’s heart jumped when it shouldn’t.

Will was contorting in ways that must have been uncomfortable, but when his mouth closed over one of Hannibal’s nipples the older man didn’t care. He groaned, pressed a hand to the small of Will’s back to steady him, that hand slipping to the curve of his ass as Will switched targets and worried the other with his teeth, soothing with his tongue. Hannibal clutched at the flesh, kneaded it beneath his hand, and Will pressed into the touch, mewled over his skin and then pulled away, untangling, standing and tossing his shirt away, fingers popping open the button of his pants and dragging the zipper down. He stared at Hannibal the whole time, as they slipped down his hips slightly, as the light caught the hallows of his ribs and stomach- slimmer now, seeming smaller, his Will. Wasting away, and Hannibal wanted to rebuild him, cradle him and nourish him and let him bloom again, in full sunlight.

Will kicked his shoes off and let his pants fall down his legs, stepping out in nothing but his socks and underwear. He raised his eyebrows, playfully, and Hannibal pushed himself from the chair, letting his own shirt slid off his body and circling Will, eyeing him from top the bottom.

“I did not know you considered this therapy, William.” Will said nothing, sucked on his lower lip and for a moment- a bleak, fleeting moment- looked himself again, the Will that had trusted and needed Hannibal. That image stuck in the man’s mind, even as Will, in the present, fought the odd urge to vomit and bend over for Hannibal simultaneously. He wanted, he needed, he hated. He was sick and aroused and willing to let the two feelings mingle.

He turned, dropping down into Hannibal’s chair with his legs spread, smiling a lazy smile, a daring smile. His stance left the invitation impossible to misunderstand, and Hannibal dropped down to his knees, perfectly between Will’s legs, and leaned over him, kissing along one of his thighs, onto the fabric of his dark boxer briefs. He turned, inhaled the scent of arousal and then kissed at the shape of Will’s erection through the fabric. Will inhaled sharply, watched as Hannibal mouthed along his cock, hands reaching up and gripping at the hem of Will’s underwear. The younger man lifted his lips, allowed Hannibal to peeled them down his body, down his legs, tossing them away, taking a moment to tug his socks away too.

Once, Will would have giggled over that. It seemed silly. Now, it didn’t matter- except to tell him that part of Hannibal still _cared_.

Hannibal returned, lifted Will’s cock and stroked it once, twice, watching the bead of pre-cum that was forming over his slit. Will watched behind his steely eyes- grey and cool, and if Hannibal had bothered to look long enough, he’d see how detached he really was. But he glanced once, through bangs that was coming free, and then bowed his head, sucking the head of Will’s cock into his mouth. Will groaned, tipped his head back, a tremble rushing through him as Hannibal took him in inch by inch, his hand holding the base of his cock and stroking what wouldn’t fit. Will managed to keep his hips from thrusting up, as much as he wanted to bury himself right into the man’s skull, let Hannibal set the pace of leisurely sucking on him, teasing and tasting and making his blood hot.

Will reached down finally, buried a hand in Hannibal’s hair, fought down the urge to tug painfully, and instead stroked along his scalp. Soothing, tender, and Hannibal made a pleased sound around his cock, before pulling off and standing up, walking away suddenly, leaving Will to watch, breath wheezing out quickly. He looked down at himself, at his cock standing erect, red and swollen and leaking, slick with Hannibal’s saliva. His stomach turned, sickened- then tightened, aroused. He looked up, saw Hannibal coming back, watched him drop back down to his knees.

“Turn around,” he whispered, and Will scrambled up, turning around, gripping onto the back of the chair and bearing his ass the way he _knew_ Hannibal wanted. Silently, he told himself he was ready for this. He told himself it would feel good- and he knew it was the truth.

Hannibal grabbed at Will’s ass, parting flesh and exhaling slowly against his hole, before his tongue darted out, flicking against it. Will gasped, arched, made a loud, pleased sound as Hannibal tongued at the muscle. He sucked his lip into his mouth, felt Hannibal squeeze his ass cheeks, wondered if the man could bruise- sure in a moment he could. Will hung his head, let his breath come in ragged gasps as Hannibal licked and lapped, traced and tongued, until he was pushing inside that ring of muscle and Will nearly screamed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the room, echoing inside the confines of Hannibal’s skull.

“Nnngh, _more_ ,” Will breathed, giving into the ache in his gut and forcing everything else out. There was this, this ache between his legs and at the base of his spine, this sweet feeling of Hannibal’s tongue, and there didn’t need to be anything else. Hannibal obliged him, fucking him with his tongue as he reached between his legs to cup his balls, massaging them gently and making Will whimper- a sound Hannibal had wanted, needed so badly.

He pulled away, grabbed at the small bottle of lube he’s retrieved from his desk, coating his fingers and then pushing them against Will’s hole, pressing but not entering, until Will was shifting, spreading his thighs, pushing back so that two slipped inside before Hannibal had meant. That eagerness tore a growl from his throat, and he leaned up over Will, fucking him with two fingers, stretching him, kissing at the base of his spine and tasting the salt of his sweat.

“Will,” he breathed against it, and Will looked back, locked eyes. Hannibal thought he saw something, the blue fading back from the inky blackness of his pupils, and suddenly he wanted to dive into the man, to make him scream and come undone so he would come _back_. He never wanted Will Graham to leave his office.

Hannibal pushed a third finger in and Will turned away, the color Hannibal saw nothing more than shadows flickering along his face. The affection he swore was there was a lie- one he himself had constructed and projected onto Will. All Will felt was hot and desire, but love? Love was something long dead in his belly.

Hannibal worked him open, and it was needy and rushed but there was a tenderness to it, in the way that Hannibal leaned and peppered kissed along his spine, whispered his name into his skin. Will trembled, from the sheer desire for more, and Hannibal thought it from his tenderness, and his chest was sore and warm and he fought back the urge to let out a cry of joy. Instead he pulled from Will’s body, standing to strip, and Will was turning, standing up, seeming so thing and ghost like.

He looked at the chair as Hannibal stripped of his pants and underwear, and Hannibal sat, listening to the silent command in Will’s eyes. Will grabbed the tiny bottle of lube, slicked up his hand, then reached for Hannibal, stroking him gently, feeling hos, soft skin over a hardness that made him lick his lips. Hannibal’s eyes fluttered shut, Will’s hand enough to drive him into a whimpering mess. He bit at his lip instead, felt Will crawl onto him, reaching behind him to guide Hannibal’s cock to his slick entrance, and then he was pushing down onto him, taking him in- so tight and hot that Hannibal did gasp, reaching for Will’s hips and grabbing them to steady himself.

Will tipped his head forward when Hannibal bottomed out, choking on his gasp, that one curl free and oddly enticing. Hannibal leaned forward, pressed his forehead to Will’s, breathing in his plethora of scents and wanted to drown in them. “Will,” he choked out, all warm, tender, the way a lover says a name, and Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck, lifting himself up then sinking back down, biting his lower lip and groaning through teeth and flesh as Hannibal helped to guide him. Hannibal made him feel full in a way he hadn’t imagined- as if the man reached right up into his body and sank into the empty cavity hidden beneath his flesh.

He was brushing along a spot inside Will’s body that made his vision swim, turn white along the edges. A hard thrust up from Hannibal and he nearly screamed again, the sound coming as a garbled, choked moan as Will clutched harder onto him, pressing against him, not caring to touch his own cock as Hannibal clutched and pushed up, gasping, panting, needing and wanting and loving the feeling of Will wrapped around him, clinging. Yes, he could be that stability Will needed again. Will could embrace him and he could rebuild what had begun to break. Plans could change, he could make Will his.

He _needed_ to make Will’s his- or he simply might shatter.

“Will,” he gasped, saying the man’s name for the countless time. He wanted to hear Will gasp for him, whimper his name, but the man gave him nothing but wordless sounds, fingers of one hand threading into his hair.

“Close,” he breathed, and Hannibal loved that he was so worked up, that he responded in sync with Hannibal’s desires. They were one, he was sure. This was the other half of him, all he needed to fill the suit of his skin. Hannibal kissed at whatever skin he could get, whispered _Will_ over and over again in a mantra of love, showering the younger man with tenderness in a voice normally kept stoic.

He could show a little, let the mask slip- unbutton the person suit. He could give because this was Will, and he had taken from Will in order for him to grow. It was time to give a little back.

Will’s breathing became ragged, broken, whimpers tumbling from his mouth. Hannibal clutched him tighter, felt Will’s hold strengthen, his arms tightly around him, clinging as if the world might slip away. When Will came, splashing the both of them, it was with a wordless cry that bordered on a scream, and Hannibal followed with a strangled sob that sounded Will’s name, a prayer that echoed inside Will’s head, wrapped around his brain and squeezed.

He slumped down against Hannibal, gasping, feeling drained, almost drowsy. Hannibal’s arms moved higher up, help him around his chest and shoulders, cradled him gently and whispered soothingly to him. “I will be your therapy,” he promised, kissing as Will’s cheek. “I will heal you, darling Will.”

Will said nothing, closed his eyes and pictured Hannibal holding him like this to calm him from the fear of a nightmare. Once, it might have worked. Once he would have loved this man for it. But now, in this moment, Will wanted nothing more than to break him, to watch his pieces shatter and scatter along the ground. He wanted to tear the seams out of the person suit and feed the fabric to carnivorous moths, let them chew and chew until they got to Hannibal’s bones.

He wanted to be the absolute undoing of Hannibal Lecter.

Hannibal continued to cradle him, thinking this was the beginning, that Will had meant it was simply the end of their coy seduction- the end of the lies they had built up. For him, it was the true beginning of all that he wanted- Will. It didn’t matter what other affairs he had, what other affairs Will could have, everything would come down to them, in these soft moments. Hannibal loved him- oh, he loved him so much it hurt but in a pleasing way. In a way that made it real.

He mouthed the words silently against Will’s skin. _I love you_. Not a sound, just a movement, and he hoped that it would sink into skin and fill Will entirely.

He didn’t know that Will was so empty it would fall into the oblivion that had stretched in his belly. He was too blinded by the possibilities to see the truth-

That this man would be his utter undoing, would bring about the final steps to his fall from grace. That Will Graham was forever lost to Hannibal Lecter.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even explain why, I just didn't want to write something with a remotely happy conclusion like I usually might. But I could see Hannibal being rather blinded by his affection for Will, so perhaps I just wanted to see how far I could take it.
> 
> (Also, I apologize- I don't feel like this is my best work. I'm quite run down. But I wanted to share it anyway.)


End file.
